


Broken Hands & Bloody Noses

by kayxpc



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andreil, Exy, I'll probably delete it, M/M, andrew gets hurt, tbh idk what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 03:41:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9581702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayxpc/pseuds/kayxpc





	

Abby rushed onto the court before the buzzer called time-out. She passed Neil in a flurry of red and white emergency kits, but before she could reach Andrew he had caught up with her, extending his arm to keep her back. Andrew looked up at them from where he was kneeling, arm folded against his chest, and with an unperturbed look, stood and strode past them.

Whistles blew and buzzers sounded. Neil shed his helmet and gloves by the time he found Andrew on the bench all the way in the outer ring of the stadium. There were straggler fans who had taken a bathroom break, there were pointed fingers and conspiratorial whispers but no one approached them. Neil knelt in front of Andrew, taking in the limp, bloody hand hanging between his knees.

"I want a cigarette," he commented nonchalantly.

"You're fucking _hand—_ "

"Cigarette."

Neil grit his teeth. Andrews gaze held somewhere far over his left shoulder, uninterested in his injury. Neil jogged back to the locker room, got the pack from Andrews locker and ice from Abby, neatly dodging her questions. Renee was already in goal and the game was resuming without them. He caught the meaningful look Wymack sent him from his spot up against the glass.

  
Andrew extended his left, unaffected hand, pointer and middle finger held in a V, waiting. Neil slid a stick into place and pocketed the pack.

"You going to light this with magic?" Andrew snarked, he forgot a lighter. Stray fans still milled around behind the bench they were at. Neil glanced over his shoulder quickly looking for anyone who might have one.

"You! Yeah you," he motioned a middle aged woman in a jean jacket over. "You got a light?"

She nodded slowly, handing the periwinkle, paisley lighter over. Neil lit Andrews cigarette and handed it back silently. The woman stared dumbly at Andrews hand a few moments before turning away. Andrew brought it to his mouth and took a long drag, holding the smoke in.

"Let me look at your hand," Neil said, his own hands inches away from the broken flesh. Andrew blew the smoke out, long and low into his face. He shook the hand at Neil slightly, in assent, gritting his teeth against the pain.

Neil turned his palm flat up and held Andrew's delicately. He didn't miss the wince from his boyfriend. He lowered the ice pack as slow as he could onto his knuckles but Andrew still jerked his hand back.

"That's cold."

Neil tugged his hand back, putting the ice on it again.  
"It's ice."

Andrew took a drag. "No shit." The smoke escaped his mouth with every word.

"I have to take you to the hospital," Neil told him. His hand was clearly broken.

"I don't think so."

"You shouldn't have punched that guy then, Andrew."

"It doesn't matter."

Neil sighed in frustration.

"I don't need you to protect me," he said. The backliner was already red carded for his swing at him but Andrew broke his nose anyway. Andrew ignored him for a while, smoking and staring into the distance. Finally he seemed to come to a conclusion.

"Baltimore." Was all he said. It was enough to shut Neil up, no easy feat. It still stung like a slap in the face to think about.

"How many times do I have to say I'm sorry?"

Andrew's hand wriggled in protest, jostling the melting ice around in the bag. Chilled droplets leaked onto their hands.

"I don't want your fucking apologies–" he glanced down at Neil, a hard set to his pale eyebrows. "I _want_ it to never have happened."

Neil clenched his jaw in protest to the words bubbling up. He didn't know what to say though, what he should say. There was nothing _to_ say. Finally, he let his ass hit the floor, scooting closer in between Andrews legs to keep the ice on his hand. He reached up with a free one to ask.

"Gimme."

Andrew looked pissed off, more so than usual. He passed the cigarette and watched Neil bring the stick between his lips and his cheeks hollow slightly as he inhaled. He admired the way his Adam's apple jutted out when he tipped his head back to blow out the smoke.

"I fucking hate you," he said.

Neil rolled his eyes. Andrew hated that. "Let me take you to the hospital."

"Fine."

"That's my line," Neil's mouth quirked up.

"Fucking copyright it then."


End file.
